Willie drove off, his kisses still tingling on my lips as I, in astonishment, saw Chubby half a block away. He flicks his cigarette butt across the street, sparkling like a firecracker when it hits a telephone pole. My heart is thumping heavily in my chest because he had to have seen Willie and me kissing. What can I say about that?
He walks right up to me and says, "Hey, buddy, was that your new friend what's his name?" I said, "Yes, that was Willie. He just left." My face felt hot, so I knew I was blushing a bright pink color, but because I was standing in the shadows, Chubby couldn't tell. He asked, "What was he doing to you? It looked like he was kissing you, or were you two maybe arguing about something?"
Chubby was up the steps and next to me by now. I know him so well, I recognized a lack of conviction about what he said, making me think he was doing a little friendly ball-busting. If he really thought Willie and I were kissing, he wouldn't be so blase about it. Still, I was nervous, trying to think how to respond. I'm so sick of lying to him about Carl, and now this. Ever since I admitted my true gay nature, I've been telling one lie after another to the person I love most in this world: my best friend ever.
I lied, "Oh, that. Yeah, look," and I held out the pendant cross on my new necklace. "Willie asked if I wanted to buy it. What do you think?" Chubby goes, "Buy it? What's he doing, selling jewelry?" As he said that, he fingered the cross and added, "This looks wicked expensive." I had a guilty conscience, so I kept talking, "He was trying to get the clasp to work behind my neck, and you thought we were fighting. That's a good one."
Chubby opens the door to the stairs to his condo and says, "Or kissing. Well, how much does he want for it? It is really cool!" Talking quickly now, I said, "No, he doesn't sell jewelry. It was given to him by some kid at Prep school. Willie thinks it might be stolen, so he doesn't want to wear it back at school. I said I liked it, and he jokingly asked how much I would give him for it. I wanted to wear it, so he fastened it around my neck. The clasp was a bitch."
Chubby's staring at me, his lips parted, a frown on his cute face. He said, "You lie like a rug. I think you'd rather tell a lie than the truth. I don't give a shit about the necklace. It's your lies I worry about. Are you in trouble?" I said, "Trouble? No!" Then I changed the subject, "Bro, you look good with that buzz cut, and I see your pierced ear." I reached over to touch it lightly and murmured, "Wish I could get mine pierced".
He put his arm across my shoulder and said, "When you're ready to tell me whatever it is you're not telling me, I'm ready to listen and help if I can. As for the pierced ear, I agree that it's cool, but I hated getting it because Rickie told me I had to." I asked if he had another cigarette, and he did. We stepped back outside to share it. Chubby thought that my Mom would give in and let me get my ear pierced now that he had his pierced, and we talked about that. He remembered there were many places on the boardwalk that would pierce just about anything you wanted pierced. We talked about if it had hurt getting his ear pierced and blah, blah, blah...
I relaxed because I could tell we were tight. He wasn't mad at me for lying to him, and he didn't really think that Willie and I were kissing. That would be too much of a leap from what he knew about me. I mean, making out with another boy doesn't happen in our world. Still, he knew I was lying about something, and he has given me leeway about that. Of course, I can't be positive Chubby isn't at least a little suspicious about Willie's goodbye kiss, but he has no way of knowing how much of my lie was actually the truth. There's usually some truth to every lie. In this case, there isn't much, but...
Looking at Chubby's face, illuminated only by the light of a full moon and bright stars, I thought he looked so young and so cute. As he passed me a cigarette, I said, "How about tomorrow in Wildwood? Are you psyched?" He goes, "Way psyched! That's a no-brainer, bro. It's gonna rock!". I reached over and rubbed his buzzed head and said, "You're special, Chubby." He looked at me for a second, taken by surprise that I was so sincere. He looked away, mumbling, "Maybe you wouldn't think so if I told you something; not that I'm going to tell you what that something is. I want you to keep thinking I'm special as long as possible."
I didn't know what to say. He seemed intense. He squeezed my hand and mumbled, "You're more special than me, Dylan. You're special enough for both of us." I exhaled a long stream of smoke and said, "After we get settled in the Wildwood condo, the first thing we do after that is riding that fucking double-shot on forty-third street. Right, Chub?" He goes, "Fucking A!" We did a hug, and I tried to kiss the side of his head like he did to me last night, but he was too quick. We both felt slightly awkward, I guess. We finished our smokes, bumped fists, and went into our separate houses.
I was still awake when I heard Mom come in from work. Chub and I were going to let the Moms sleep in tomorrow morning, but not too late because we have a long drive ahead of us today. It's impossible not to be excited about being on vacation, though, so even the Moms will probably be up early.
I've never felt the same way I feel about Willie. Even with vacation starting tomorrow, I can't stop thinking about Willie. He's replaced how I used to always think about Carl. Well, I still fantasize about Carl fucking me. He's the best. If he lost weight... yikes!
Of course, I love Chubby the most of anybody, but that's a one-sided, non-sexual love affair, and with Willie, it's so much different. He loves me, and I want to be with him. The thought of Willie fucking me the way he does is getting me hard just thinking about it right now. And, it's him too, the way he loves me so much and is so overprotective and, yes., a little bit bossy, too. But bossy in that sweet Willie way, often being naive in some ways and yet sophisticated in other ways. He's always buying me stuff. Whoa, and that's a first, for sure; nobody buys me presents.
Well, Chubby and I never had money before we got our jobs. And now, with the jobs, we're saving every penny, so we still don't have much money to spend. We're fanatical about affording driver's licenses, as I've mentioned a dozen times or so... it's our fixation. We've allocated one week's earnings each for our spending money on vacation. For me, that amounts to three hundred and thirty-six dollars, and Chubby, who makes a lot more than me, is taking five hundred dollars with him. It may sound like a lot, but it'll all get spent easily. We have it worked out that Chubby buys our lunches, and we split everything else.
Then I thought of Willie and my date earlier tonight and about laying in his bed with him before and after he fucked me. Oh my God, I get so aroused just thinking about the way he makes love to me. I'm always thinking about the next time we have sex. It's kind of funny and fun to let him be bossy, too. Carl calls it dominant, but I prefer to think of it as Willie being bossy. He takes his role so seriously, too, but the slightest objection to anything by me, and Willie apologizes. Then he'll slowly slip back into the alpha dog role, all the time testing to see if it's okay with me.
Wouldn't it be something if Willie is my first and last boyfriend, and we wind up spending our lives together? Wow, what a thought. Chubby can be my best man at Willie's and my wedding. Oh man, that's too much! Ha ha. But wait a minute! Willie would want to have the best man. I'd have to have a maid of honor, or is it a bridesmaid? I better find out. Ha, ha!
That was the last thing I remember contemplating last night. Man, did I have a sound night's sleep! This morning, I'm raring to go. After using the bathroom, I went up to the Romero's condo. I know where they keep the outdoor key and let myself in; then, slip into Chubby's room quietly. He was still sleeping, so I'm wondering, what the fuck time is it anyway? His alarm clock on the night table showed eight o'clock. That's late enough, so how should I wake him? I'm only wearing boxer shorts, so I slipped under the covers with Chubby.
Oh God! His Chubby smell quickly enveloped my senses as the covers floated down on me, and his wonderful natural aroma, which had accumulated under those covers all night, came drifting out in a wave of warm, yummy-smelling air. I took a big, quiet inhale and shivered at how much I loved that smell. It was like my piece of Chubby to savor as long as it lasted. As I lay there, loving every second of it, I looked at Chubby. He was facing me, and I had this silly grin that I couldn't get rid of. He sure is a cute boy, and ya know what? The buzzcut actually looks good on him. He looks tough! I inched over on my side till my nose was a fraction of an inch away from his and tried not to laugh. If he opened his eyes, he'd scream his balls off. My hand was on the back of his neck, his skin so smooth and warm.
Damn, my dick was wicked hard, poking straight out the slit in my boxers. I had to be careful it didn't poke him. I almost laughed again, thinking what he'd do if my boner touched him and woke him. Oh, Jesus, Chubby would be so pissed. Reaching down to adjust my boner, inching even closer to Chubby, I can't stop myself and put my arm over his side to slowly pull him into me. Oh shit, he feels so good against me, so nice. My cock is just starting to get a drop of wetness at the pee slit when I detect movement in Chubby's body, so I get really rough in hugging him like I was wrestling.
Just like that, his legs get me in a scissor hold, and I get him in a headlock. Fantastic! He's laughing and saying, "You're such a dick, Dylan. Hey, let go of my head!" We ease up on the wrestling and settle into an embrace. Chubby says, "I was afraid of this! We're a couple of fucking homos. I've been wrong all these years." He's saying it like a joke, so I pretend to kiss him, and to my surprise, he doesn't move his head, and our lips touch for an instant.
Chubby didn't freak out or anything. Instead, he muttered, "I'm kidding, you dumb shit! We're not homos." I go, "Oh, okay. I thought you were serious." We let go of one another, chuckling. Out of his bed now, Chubby's saying he still felt tired getting to bed so late last night, adding, "As you already know, Mr. Bullshitter." I ask, "Whatever are you talking about now?" He ignored that and said, "I'm tired but rested enough to handle vacation, although there's a misconception about vacations, Dylan." Following him to his bureau, I mumble, "Oh yeah, what's that?"
I'm willing my boner to go down as Chubby puts on shorts and a tee shirt, saying, "Well, you better be rested up really well for vacations as they're often more exhausting than regular life. It's sort of like when you go into the hospital. You better be wicked healthy if you hope to survive a hospital experience." I put on a pair of Chubby's shorts, muttering, "Isn't that a tad negative, Chubby?" He mutters, "Don't be a dick, "blah, blah, blah.
It was fun being with Chubby. We're not going to be eating breakfast this morning, so Chubby said he'd go in and start the process of getting his Mom moving and that I should do the same with my Mom. Framingham, Massachusetts, to Wildwood, New Jersey, is a seven-hour drive. We need to get things moving. Halfway down the stairs, I see Mom's boyfriend, Jake, at our front door carrying a suitcase. Oh, no! He's not coming with us, is he?
I mumble, "Hi, Mr. Rollins." He looks me over, then says, "Oh, so you slept with the Romero kid again last night, huh?" Surprised he knew Chubby's last name, I said, "Ah, no, but I had to wake him. We're going to Wildwood later this morning." Jake nods, "Yeah, I know. Lucky you! I promised your Mom I'd bring this suitcase over for her to use."
There is something off about this dude. I say, "Mom usually sleeps a little later than usual on Sunday morning. Um, did you want me to wake her, Mr. Rollins?"
He was now staring at my crotch, then said that unoriginal horseshit line, "Call me, Jake, okay? Mr. Rollins is my father. No, don't wake your Mom. Just tell her I dropped this off for her. Okay, Hottie?" I'm thinking, "Hottie?" Instead of commenting on that, to be a prick about it, I say, "You call your father Mr. Rollins?" Jake gave me a look, hesitated a second, and then chuckled as he shook his head slowly. It wasn't a funny-ha-ha kind of chuckle, though, and with the body language, I got the feeling he was thinking I was a smart-ass punk, or something like that. I don't like him, and maybe it's because he's taking my Mom out.
He turns to leave and then turns back, a little bit theatrically I thought, asking, in a sarcastic manner, "By the way, Cool. How was the band last night?" I'm like, "Huh?" because no one knew Willie and I were going to the concert last night. I asked, "What'd you say?" He says, "The concert; how was the concert you and your boyfriend were at last night? I saw you there with the boy who has that goofy old-time flattop haircut.
He saw Willie and me last night? Holy shit! He's on the steps going down, turned around, looking at me, adding, "By the way, you guys make a hot couple." My mind was racing, and Jake was looking smug because I was no longer the smart-ass. He says, in an even more condescending manner than I'd used on him, "My great uncle used to wear his hair like your boyfriend's. Of course, he was much older. He was my Dad's brother, but twenty years older than Dad. Uncle Gordon got hit by a bus, oh, ten years ago or so. Still had that weird flattop haircut right up to the end."
I was staring open mouth at him now, totally out of it. I mumble, "Mr. Rollins's brother was twenty years older than him?" Jake nodded with a mean-spirited smirk on his face that told me how much he was enjoying my discomfort. We looked at each other for a bit without talking. Did he say I looked hot? What was that? I'm thinking, he's a bastard, alright. Then I studied him a second, figuring Jake couldn't be thirty years old, going by how he looked. His very cool-looking light red hair was cut in a short, fashionable manner. Pale, clear skin, and he's nice looking. He was probably wicked cute as a teen.
All that's true enough, but I still didn't like him and he still didn't seem right for my Mom somehow. What would the right guy be like, though? I guess I don't know. Mom's thirty-five years old, or almost, and she's pretty and young-looking, too. He broke the silence, saying again, "Yeah, you and your boyfriend make a cute couple." I thought he had said that before, and now I knew he had, and my face went from pale to bright red. I could feel it get hot.
Perspiration broke out on my forehead as I muttered, "Huh?" Jake laughed and said, still in a sarcastic manner, "I'm teasing you, for Christ's sake! Don't feel too bad, I use to blush like that when I was a little kid. It happens at the worse times, doesn't it? Man, what a bitch that embarrassing blushing is. So, how was the concert? You haven't said."
I gulp, and say, "You were just kidding?" He goes, "Yeah, calling your friend your boyfriend. I did that as a joke. You know, just for the hell of it." There was a meanness to his voice, an edge that had developed over the last minute or so as if he really couldn't stand me and he was playing some kind of a pricky game, making me sweat because I was not sure how much he knew about Willie and me.
He scared me a little bit, too, so I tried being nice to him now, hoping he'd drop that mean edge to his voice. Looking sincere and totally unchallenging, I said, "The concert was great. We, er, I, um, we both liked it and had a good time. Where you there, Mr. Rollins?" He was outwardly arrogant now, leaning on the suitcase, looking at me smugly, "I told you to call me Jake, didn't I tell you that?" and I go, "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr.. er, Jake. Yeah, you did. Ah, Jake" and I made a goofy face.
He had total control of the situation now. Definitely, no more smartass stuff from me. He said, "No, I wasn't at the concert per se, but I was obviously in the area since I saw you and your boyfriend. By the way, I used the generic word there. Do you know what generic means?"
I enthusiastically nodded as if it was really important. He gave me a tough look, did something dismissive with his eyes, and, in a manner one might use when talking to a retard, he said, "I was not at the concert per se, but I was at the Pavilion as they are one of my clients." I did the enthusiastic nod again, not sure what he was talking about, but trying to get him to like me now so I could find out what he knew about Willie and me.
He told me that after my Mom's and his Cape Cod trip, he dropped my Mom off here at the house, and right after that, he had to work. He distributes kegs of draft beers to various venues, including three gay clubs. This encounter with Jake has robbed me of all my great, positive feelings about going to Wildwood for two weeks. This prick holds my secret in his hand. He stared at me hard, like he was daring me to say something wise-ass.
I looked down, unable to look him in the eyes, and he went on to say, "Very lucrative business. For the venues, I mean. The draft beer costs them about twenty-five cents a serving, and they sell it for six to eight dollars a pop. Not bad, huh?" He had dropped some of the arrogance by the end of his statement there, but I had to wonder what was the need for him to specifically mention the gay clubs. He had to have seen Willie and me walking around outside the tent, Willie with his arm around my waist as we walked. God dammit! This is worse than awkward. I'm like, "Ah, Mr.,er, Jake, um, why didn't you say hi when you saw us, um, saw me?"
Jake was lighting a cigarette as if he was planning on being here a while. This is another one of those role reversal situations that seem to be happening to me recently. When I first met Jake Rollins, he was trying to suck up to me. He probably figured, since I'm his girlfriend's kid, why not get on my good side? But I was put-offish to him, and I only gave him slightly arrogant, short answers to his questions. It seemed to me then that there was something off about him, but I didn't know what. I still think there's something off, and I still don't know what, but now I'm the one who's doing the sucking-up and trying to get on his good side because I'm not nearly ready to tell the world about being gay.
Jake purposely and very deliberately blew a long exhale of smoke in my face and said, "I was talking with a client when you two walked by, so I couldn't say hi. Then, when I looked for you later, I guess you'd gone in to find your seats. I didn't have a ticket, so," and he blew another long exhale of smoke in my face. I fought off every impulse to wave my hand at the smoke, thinking of Joel and the time I accidentally blew smoke his way. All I could think to do was to somehow get him to like me and not tell on me. He said, "You do know, don't you, that your pecker was poking out your shorts when you came out of your friend's house five minutes ago?"
The red came back in my face again as I looked down at my shorts. I sure didn't have a boner now. My dick was shriveling up by the second. I wanted to run to my bedroom and crawl into bed, but I couldn't because there wasn't room to get by Jake and the suitcase, and I couldn't very well go back up to Chubby's. What reason would I have for doing that? I felt trapped.
Jake said, "Don't worry about it, Dylan. I've had a hard-on now and then myself. Maybe I can get some free tickets for you and your boyfriend. That'll give me some brownie points with your mom. Taking her only son to a concert or a ballgame, maybe. We wouldn't need actually to go to the ballgame, of course." I looked at him with a puzzled look on my face as he says impatiently, "Oh, did you forget your lie to her? That's where you told your Mom you were going last night, to a baseball game?"
Blushing again, I said, "Huh?" I'd come full circle back to that clever retort. He goes, "Ah, don't worry about it too much. I'm not going to tell on you unless you piss me off. Hey, I'm kidding again." I did a dumb fake laugh and mumbled, "Oh, man. Oh... ha ha... Thanks, Jake." As soon as I said thanks, Jake, I realized I had just entered into a conspiracy with this guy, and that meant I was admitting I had something to conspire about, and Jake knew what it was, maybe two things. I lied about where I was going last night, and I'm gay. Minor things. I was lying and deceiving. I felt like shit, total shit.
Is Jake like the Marine? A bisexual guy. I scrambled to think what to say and came up with this, trying to suck in with him more than ever, "Would you really get me some free passes, Jake? I think it would be cool to hook up with you sometime to go to The Garden or something." He handed me his cigarette butt and said, "Yeah, I'll bet you would, kid. Get rid of that thing for me, would you? And, take the suitcase to your mother. You best stay on my good side, alright, kid?" I did my overly enthusiastic nod. He gives me a look, shakes his head at how pathetic I am, and mutters, "See you around, and tell nice things to your Mom about me, and I'll tell her, well, maybe I'll tell her nothing, right?"
He laughed at that, shot me with his index finger, pulled the trigger with his thumb, and went down the steps, whistling off tune. He sure has me where he wants me. I'm not sure where that might be, but it's going to cost me something. I've got these debts, or whatever they are, adding up. One for Carl, one for Joel and our supposed weekend together after my vacation, and then there's the Marine who I promised to email, setting-up a date for him to fuck me with that huge cock. Fuck me until I become his boy or something like that, and now, Jake, who knows my secret. What does he want, I wonder. The only person I can talk to about this is Willie.
I need to talk to someone because I'm just getting myself into a deeper mess week by week. What am I doing wrong here? I mean other than lying and deceiving ... what else?
To be continued...
